


Haven’t we met before?

by Superbanana



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 22:56:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21465895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superbanana/pseuds/Superbanana
Summary: Nursing school in the modern day setting.Delias a second year trying to work out “all the things” and Patsys a newly qualified who decides to take Delia under her wing.What can I say? I might as well use this knowledge for something fun.
Relationships: Delia Busby/Patsy Mount
Comments: 20
Kudos: 69





	Haven’t we met before?

When Delia had tried to imagine herself as a nursing students in a&e she’d had a few ideas to work on. There would be dramatic scenes in small triage bays, mysterious medical cases that only determined detective work could possibly solve. Oh, and romance. Delia had watched a lot of greys anatomy and it had all seemed terrifically exciting.

What somehow never made it onto the shows was the less pretty stuff. The people who hadn’t washed so that when you stood near them the smell was so strong it was physical. Or the ulcers that made limbs bulge. Or the maggots. Or the faeces. So, so much faeces. Or the naked men. Delia had never seen a naked man before she’d started nursing school.

After the first twenty pairs of hairy buttocks and penis’s she’d decided, very firmly, that she hadn’t missed anything of importance. She’d also made a mental note to be nicer to her mam. Thirty years looking at the same pair of testicles must have been difficult for her.

No. Nursing definitely wasn’t how she’d picture it.

Not hard exactly. Just constantly challenging.

It wasn’t even as though the patient side of things was difficult. It helped that Delia was naturally cheerful and she liked meeting people. Even the people with red faces asking for the “erm, erm just someone to have a look at my back passage.” Which, Delia was swiftly learning, could fit a whole host of quite interesting implements. The grimmest so far being half a KFC family bucket of chicken bones. The initial scan had looked like foetus bones. The x-ray technician had nearly fainted. The surgeon who’d then been hastily roused to remove said bones had grinned rather nastily at Delia through his mask and told her this would be taking the top spot for the week in terms of hilarity.

Delia hadn’t laughed. She wasn’t altogether certain that she liked surgeons. Or doctors for that matter. Even some of the nurses could be draining.

There was a saying in nursing that seemed to have been going around for years. The saying went; “don’t you know that all nurses eat their young.” 

Delia could understand now why people said that. Not all mentors were nice. 

All nursing students did six eleven week placements over three years. Every placement was supposed to be different, specialties, settings, geographical locations. The reasoning behind it being that it would give each starting nurse a wide variety of experience to choose from when deciding on their specialty. So far Delia had spent time in dermatology and ophthalmology.

Dermatology had been small day operations; skin cancer, miscellaneous tumours. The occasional severely acne ridden teenager. It had been quite a soothing place to be. The nurses had been nice, if understaffed, and the nurse she’d been assigned to to learn from had been kind enough. Delia hadn’t spent much time with her though, most of her shifts had been with the healthcare assistants. She’d made more beds than she’d care to mention, stood beside the nurse during medication dispensing and she’d also made enough tea to sink a medium sized ship. 

Tea, nice cards from patients, their families and the occasional chocolate milk tray all being the oil that allowed the train of nursing to stay on its track. Oh, and the Gossip of course. Each ward was like a small village; Delia learned quickly to be careful what she said to smiling middle aged women who reminded her of her mam. God knew that no one did it for the money.

Ophthalmology had been a bit more demanding. Day surgeries again but Delia had been allowed to inject the local anaesthetic directly into the patients eye this time under the watchful supervision of the Doctor. She’d done it twice. She’d learned about the anatomy of the eye there. She’d learned about medical management and triaging.

For the three weeks that consist of summer holidays for nursing students Delia had felt a small fire of confidence glimmer in herself. She’d learned a lot over the first year all things considered. She’d felt strong.

That was the summer though.

Second year of nursing was known as hell year for a reason. The expectations seemed to explode but the experience was yet to be obtained. All constant tug of war between what you knew and what you didn’t. Suddenly it was taken for granted that you knew the entire anatomy of the human skeleton, it’s muscular system, it’s nervous system. The five core systems. The thousands of medications, their titrations, their maximum and minimum dosages. You understood all clinical implements. You understood political structures of the NHS. 

Second year of nursing was the midway point of a marathon. Your enthusiasm was wearing thin and your end goal was still too far away to see. All you could do was keep running.

Which was all very well Delia had snapped when Trixie reminded her of this but Delia had yet to see a marathon where the athletes were also expected to juggle sharks while wearing suits of armour on a burning track.

Second year was a brutal experience. Sink or swim.

Delia didn’t feel as though she was sinking exactly, Phyllis seemed happy with her performance overall, but to call it swimming was probably not right either. An exhausted doggy paddle was probably about right.

It wasn’t just the placements, although working forty hours a week for free didn’t help her banking situation. It was everything. The workload had increased. Assignments for three different modules due in the space of the same month. Fifty hours of Elsevier skills to watch and complete a test on every skill listed on her days off. Pebble pad; a 100 part practical list of skills and competencies identified by the British nursing and midwifery council to each be exampled through a small individual essay which must be completed by the end of any placement. Plus she had to try and cram in extra shifts just to make rent. 

The days were spiralling ahead of her. Filled with endless coursework, revision, exams, essays and that was on top of placement expectations. Delia had nearly burst into tears when Phyllis, her mentor, had informed her that she would expect extra written reflections on something that she’d learned each week.

She wasn’t sleeping properly she knew that. Last night she’d woken up bleary eyed, reacting to a call bell that didn’t exist. She’d liked running before the start of second year. And reading books. And seeing people. Now, she didn’t have time to enjoy anything to any great depth. 

Just two more years she’d tell herself when she wanted to have a breakdown. Just two more years and then you can have a life again.

Her family were getting upset. “Yes, of course they understood that she was busy, but honestly Cariad, they must give you a bit of down time?” 

Gina, Delias question mark of girlfriend from freshers week had dumped her last week. “It’s not like you’d even notice I’m gone Delia.” Delia was only half ashamed to realise that this was true.

Delia desperately wanted to talk to someone but couldn’t think who the someone could be. Gina had never been someone she talked to exactly. Her parents would be lovely about it but they wouldn’t understand what nursing school was like. Her friends from back home wouldn’t either. She couldn’t talk to the nurses at work about it obviously because they had their own work and a complaining student simply wasn’t acceptable. She wasn’t a nurse yet and she wasn’t not a nurse either. Stuck in the middle. 

Delia would have liked to meet up with one of her nursing student friends but being on placement had scattered everyone to the four winds. Different hours and shifts to suit their mentors preferences. Trixie was in a neo-natal clinic in another hospital across the city. Barbara was in a care home outside of London entirely. Chummy was working in the community doing 9-5.

Delia was working 10 hour night shifts. She was more lonely than she’d ever been in her life.

It might help if the pressure could be let out every now and again but it just seemed to increase. Everything needed to be decided. Take specialism. It was the second question anyone asked her; “what year are you in? Do you know what your speciality is going to be yet?”

Delia didn’t know where she wanted to end up. All the old nurses said that when you found where you loved it was like coming home. So far the closest to warm and gooey Delia had felt was when the middle aged gentleman who’d come in with an unknown overdose vomited on her at the start of tonight’s shift.

And that had just been the start of it.

A woman had frantically arrived five minutes later with a baby that had swallowed a pin. The baby had been floppy and blue; Delia had watched in a trance as Phyllis and junior doctor worked in a kind of silent dance to bring the child back to life.

And there it was; that was the pull. The amazing privilege. The thing that got her out of bed when all she wanted to do was duck back under her covers. The magic of it. The reason that sat under her skin and seemed to vibrate with the pulse of her heart.

Nursing wasn’t easy, it wasn’t meant to be. It was the closest thing to real magic humans could get to. Had to be. A miracle to be able to bring people back from the brink. To step toe to toe with the reaper and send him back. It was addictive. Delia, for all of the worry and stress she was carrying, knew to her bones that now she’d seen it, she wouldn’t ever be happy doing anything else with her life. It was life. And death. And everything in between. From the cradle to the grave nurses were there. Mostly forgotten, only called for when needed but always there. 

Delia liked Phyllis. She wanted to be like Phyllis when she was older. Stern, commanding and competent. Phyllis never shouted, she never judged. She listened like a kind of black hole. She shaped the way other people thought. Delia could only hope that she’d learn to be half as good.

For now though there were the basics to master. In a&e every nurse had to know how to take bloods. Delia was struggling with this. So far every attempt had ended with rolling veins and the one sample she had managed to get she’d dropped out of sheer exhilaration. Phyllis seemed confident that she’d get it eventually though. The shift had been going alright so far.

And then It had happened.

An old woman had come in complaining of chest pains. Phyllis had completed the checks, taken the blood when Delia had failed to do it, hooked up the ECG, noted the very slightly raised Ventricle fibrillation and left the room to call the CPU. Delia had been left to chat with the woman while they waited.

She’d been called Margaret. She’d been 93 next month. She’d got four sons and a daughter. Fifteen grandchildren. She’d been a widow for ten years. Her husband had been called Winston. They’d wanted a house by the sea but Winstons guttering company had kept them in the city. Her youngest grandson was training to be a lawyer. Her favourite granddaughter was due to have a baby. She was looking forward to being a great grandmother. 

She was dead now. 

Delia had seen the BP rise out of the blue. Tachycardia said her hind brain on instinct. Fibrillation. Had heard the respiration’s suddenly spike as though Margaret was breathing around something Delia couldn’t see. She’d seen her papery skin turn greyer and greyer and then heard the breathing stop. The body falling limp.

Delia had pushed the call button, had shouted for help. Cardiac arrest. Had to be.

Phyllis had arrived in seconds, the bright red slash of crash cart rolling ahead of her as Delia manically started chest compressions. 

Delia had been panicking, her hands slipping on the brittle breast bone as she felt for the fourth and fifth intercostal muscle and pushed one third the depth of the chest just as she’d been drilled. Cannulas were being fitted. A doctor had arrived and was barking orders. The Lucas machine arrived and was slid underneath the woman’s body. Delia was ordered to the cart to pull out instruments as they were needed.

And she hadn’t known what to do. She hadn’t learned what was in the cart by name. The place had been organised chaos.

Someone in dark blue scrubs. The HSO? Or was it a registrar? Asked for a Guedel. 

Delias mouth had opened and closed stupidly as she looked down at the range of airways in the second tray, her eyes filling with useless shocked tears. 

Margaret wasn’t getting any better. She was supposed to be 93. She’d been talking to Delia only minutes ago.

Someone had swiped an orange curve of plastic from the tray before she could explain her confusion and was sliding it across the palate of the old woman’s mouth but it was discarded almost instantly. 

“Tongues in the way! Nasopharyngeal now?”

All eyes fell on her, heavier than any blow. Delia stared down at the tray and shook her head.

“I don’t-“ she’d began.

A large hand had gripped her by the shoulder before she could get it out though and she was shoved roughly out of the bay. “If you can’t help then get out!” Said a man’s voice gruffly behind the curtain.

Delia stood stupid and solitary in the clean hallway, biting her lip to stop the shocked tears. The lights were very bright on her red face and the mechanical pump of the Lucas every half second filled her blank mind.

Her feet took over after that and she ran towards the stock cupboard, thumbing the keypad with shaking hands. Needing to be alone.

Inside the dark space packets of needles, gauzes, cannulas and everything you might imagine towered above her on every shelf. Delia slumped against the far wall and sat on the concrete floor hugging her knees. 

She thought about home. She wished her mam was here. She wished someone was here.

The door opened.

A tall woman in scrubs with red hair walked in muttering under her breath. Delia blinked guiltily up at her and then, realising that there wasn’t any way not to be seen, scrambled to her feet. Her shoes squeaked when she moved.

The red haired woman stopped and stared down at her suspiciously. She folded her arms, standing in front of the door.

“Are you a stowaway?’ The woman asked sternly, ‘I should tell you now that this is a restricted area. If you’re trying to pinch supplies then I’m afraid I’ll have to call the police you know.”

Delia realised that her face was probably bright red, her eyes puffy from crying and her nose felt full of snot. She sniffed and fumbled in her pocket for her ID badge to prove her innocence. “I’m not stealing. I’m a student. Nursing student.”

The newcomers eyes took in the badge quickly, then Delias blotchy face and seemed to soften slightly. “And you thought you’d have five minutes to yourself did you?”

Delia bit her lip, right at this moment any sort of kindness was going to make her start crying again. “Yes. Something like that.” She sniffed, trying to smile but failing. Probably looked like she was having a stroke.

Poor joke that.

She thought of Margaret’s great grandchild not yet here to meet her and her vision blurred with more tears.

The newcomer must have seen Delias face change because she stepped closer and pulled from her scrub top a clean handkerchief that she offered to Delia. “Here, have a hankie. It’s quite clean. Take a load off.’ Her voice was an order but her tone was kind as she placed an arm around Delias shoulders and led her firmly to sit back down. ‘You needn’t feel embarrassed at being upset. We all have our moments and anyone who tells you differently is just lying. Now, have a good blow and take a few deep breaths.”

Delia did as she was told, slightly hypnotised by the voice. “I’m sorry,’ she said thickly, dabbing at her face to try and mop up the incriminating tears, ‘I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“What? Crying?’ The woman laughed, ‘I wouldn’t worry about it, we’ve all been there. Who’s your mentor?”

“Phyllis. Phyllis Crane.” Delia answered automatically between sniffs.

The woman laughed again a little more warmly this time. “Oh, I know Phyllis. She was my sign off mentor on my last placement. Has she told you she wants weekly reflections yet?”

Non plussed Delia nodded wordlessly, her lips flirting with the tiniest of grins. The woman smiled back. 

She was very pretty Delia realised a little bit late.

Why did good looking women never see Delia when she was wearing something at least slightly form fitting? Why did she have to smell worryingly of sick and be sweating? 

“She’s a good egg though and an absolute brick when you need her. I’m Patsy by the way.” The woman went on smoothly.

A hand was offered and they shook. It felt a bit silly sitting in a storage cupboard in half light but it made Delia feel a little bit better. She glanced down at the much less fresh hankie in her other fist and blushed.

“Sorry I ruined your handkerchief.” She mumbled shyly.

“Oh, it’s fine. I know where you work after all,’ Patsy winked, ‘just bring it back when you can.”

Delia couldn’t meet Patsys eyes after that. Patsy was definitely pretty. The wink was rather intriguing. To save face she balled the handkerchief in her hand. The cotton was worn and soft against the brush of her thumb.

“Did... Did you see what happened in bay 7?” Delia enquired quietly.

Patsy frowned for a moment and then her expression cleared as she nodded seriously. “The arrest? Ahh...’ for a moment no one spoke and then Patsys arm bumped against Delias comfortingly. ‘Your first death?”

Numbly Delia nodded, staring so hard at the steel hinge of the door it should melt.

“That’s rough. You never forget your first death. Mine was a drowned homeless man. I never even got to find out his name, he fell in after taking heroine we think... would it be callous to say it does get easier?... Do you want to talk about it?” Patsys voice was kind. Too kind for a stranger. She’d probably report this back to Phyllis afterwards though. 

Did Phyllis know her student was crying in the cupboard?

God, she shouldn’t be moping like this. She should be helping someone not being helped. That was her job after all.

Delia shook her head and got up again, her legs were sore from the cold floor.

“I’m sorry, I should be working.” Delia said quickly, embarrassed when Patsy followed her up, her gaze disconcertingly astute. 

“Oh... if you’re sure...’ Patsy sounded vaguely disappointed, ‘That’s fine, I’m always about though if you ever want to... chat. I’m only down the hall in resus.”

Delia pressed her lips together hard against her teeth and nodded an affirmation at Patsys ankle. “Thank you... For the hankie.” Then she turned tail and fled.

Phyllis was only just walking out of the bay when Delia found her again. She was grim faced and pulling off bloody gloves into an orange clinical waste bag.

When she saw Delia she didn’t shout or scold, instead she patted Delia on the shoulder and said quietly. “You need to learn the trolley. That can be your next reflection I think.”

When Delia only nodded glumly the woman half smiled and patted her again. “But well done lass. You did well on the CPR and you caught her quick as the rest of us could.”

“But she still died didn’t she?” The words burst out of Delias mouth before she could stop herself. She had to be dead. Phyllis wouldn’t have left otherwise. 

Phyllis watched her students dejected face for a moment and then nodded gently. “Yes, she did. But you gave her the best chance of survival. A coronary like that on the street has less than 5% chance of survival. In hospital it’s still only 10%. What you did gave her that entire 10%. That sort of thing matters; we did everything we could. You did the right thing. Remember that.’ Phyllis checked her watch and pursed her lips thoughtfully before looking Delias slumped form up and down. ‘Go home lass. I’ll sign off the shift but you look like you could do with a good sleep. Come in tomorrow and start again.”

Delia looked up in shock. She’d never been allowed home early in any other placement... that being said, no one had died in dermatology or ophthalmology. 

Phyllis didn’t smile at Delias startles expression but she didn’t scowl either. It was like a quiet round of applause.

Not daring to believe her luck Delia did as she was told.

On the tube ride back to her accommodation Delia tried to hold every memory in her mind. The resps, the BP. Next time she’d know what to do faster. She’d be quicker. She’d learn the trolley, maybe she’d ask to go on the crash team for a week to learn properly. Phyllis probably wouldn’t mind.

Her flat was dark when she walked in. Last nights bowl and cup still in the sink where she’d left it unwashed. 

Her feet felt swollen as she tiredly microwaved noodles and gulped down a cup of tea.

Then, yawning, Delia got ready for bed. As she methodically checked her pockets before chucking her vomit splattered scrubs into the basket her hands felt a cotton handkerchief. In the better light of her bedroom Delia made out two letters stitched neatly in the right hand corner. 

P.M

Smiling to herself Delia put the scrap of cloth on her side table and slid under her sheets.

She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,
> 
> This is going to be a side project but honestly as Nursing is all I can really do at the moment I thought I’d throw a few tit bits of info into a fic. It’s not going to be a long one. Ten chapters max and they’re not going to be massively long like tides. Consider this a middle sized fic from me. (I knew I’d learn the skill of brevity one day).
> 
> I haven’t forgotten Tides either so to anyone who’s worried about where I’ve gone thank you very much for your enquiries it was really lovely, the next chapters being written. As for me; I’m alright, life’s just not massively easy to juggle everything at the moment. Delias definitely going to have a ranting melt down in this fic at some stage. As the saying goes if you’re not crying in placement you’re clearly not learning enough lol 🙄
> 
> Terminology (For them interested)
> 
> A guedel is a hollow curved plastic tube that’s slipped into the mouth spanning from the lips to the back of the throat. When shouted loudly the word sounds like Gazel which confuses everyone who doesn’t know.  
A Nasopharyngeal tube is another hollow tube made of rubber that goes up the nose and is used if the tongues muscles relax over the throat and block breathing.  
A Lucas machine is a robotic pump that goes around the chest and mechanically gives chest compressions. Very pricey bits of kit as it goes but amazing.  
SB


End file.
